Dexsta Ray

Gold Star - 14,261 Points (March 8,1994 -)

Eternal Victory - Poem by Dexsta Ray

Judas was a part of what it took to win it
Look, into the dark,
Cue it
Just a mark, within, a wicked man, sinning
Twisted, standing on the
Antipode
Losing, for the proof is in the form of other hindrances and not…
The movement, salvation, the Light
The retribution for the
Ruses
Like Dalmatians, but reversed 'cause earth is
Fully dark, with a bunch of fights
Being the brightness
Of the Gospel
But society is blinded to it, mindless ruin, trying to hide the cards
But no matter what, final time is ours
Besides the stars, like the
Moon
Shining, true prying, through obscure, and too unsure
Eternal victory, looming over like…
God's Sun, God won
Centuries ago, disbanding all manners, falsehood
In the doctrine, lethal, evil is too febrile
Cold to that
Hot to dropping immorality, it's the only way, open jacks
Ain't locked, surprised
Live life, do watch, view slots all objective like
Through a doctor's eyes
Find a plot to stop
The crying
Stop the dying, and I mean through spirit, life won't present apologies
It's property, leery to the top degree
So eyes open…
Human tablets, on a brink, slow to blink, with a fine notion
Leave Abaddon's signs broken
We can make it
Even…
Who said it ain't love? Trying to take it easy, following the bless of the dove
While I gauge grace
Want to say it from the maze, to the
Flame's gates
Claim faith may shake straight a vain hate, a thousand years
Smiles and tears…
Several triple beams, wielded to the main frame
Spirit, it's a little
Lead
Tell the truth, borrowing time… included sorrow like the flute of the piper, the pied
Throw at it for a reason, a normal season
Victory from up above
Something major, like my confidence
In Blazers
Only trust and love, avid in pursuits, and motivations built around the Stone
I can't trip because in winter time the ground is cold
Silencers are aiming
Muzzles silent'ed to muzzle truth
Being investigated, mauled, stalk like a cornfield, balled into a wad
Tossed paper in the trash can, messed up,
Now it's more tall
But guess what? Something out, probably like the cornballs
Or the scores crossed out
By society…
Just trying to make a difference in the night of things, we already have
Now it's time to let the titles bleed
Finding peace
Because it's of the Light and that is what a writer needs

The battle was won
At the Cross

We're just passing through

11/1/15

Topic(s) of this poem: inspiration


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Poem Submitted: Sunday, November 1, 2015

Poem Edited: Monday, April 2, 2018


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